Debt to Pay
by Emmy Slane
Summary: A home invasion. A drug deal. And a mechanic. Ichigo Kurosaki didn't mean to get caught up in any of it, but when he does, he becomes indebted to a dangerous stranger and entangled in his history of violence. M for Sex and Violence (GrimmIchi and GrimmNnoitra)
1. Chapter 1

Obscene noises echoed from the mouth of the alley. Ichigo Kurosaki blushed deep when he saw the young woman on her knees, a man in a business suit leaned back against brick with his fist in her hair.

He hurried down the sidewalk, away from the dirty act and past the open door of a seedy pub. Smoke wafted out to him, he heard roucus laughter even though it was only early in the evening. Down the road someone was shouting through a grated door, rattling the cage in its lock. One glance and Ichigo saw it was a pawn shop. He continued on.

The faster he could get out of this part of town, the better.

When he saw the garage on the corner of the street, he slowed. He straightened his jacket and pulled a scrap of paper from his back pocket. Then he plastered his best, innocent look on his face, and strode forward.

The doors were still open. There was just one man inside, bent over the engine of a beige Cadillac. One of the tires was off. The hood above his head was dented and the right head light was smashed.

The mechanic drew a wrench back out and whipped his hands off on a rag.

"What d'you want?" he called back without looking at Ichigo, still examining the interior of the car.

"Are you Grimmjow Jaggerjaques?"

"Yeah." He leaned into the car and turned the ignition. It stuttered to life. He shut it off again and finally paid Ichigo some attention. "What d'you want?"

Ichigo waved the little piece of paper before him. "I got your address from the owner of this car. He wanted me to get his stuff from it."

"Nope."

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"You ain't the customer so you can't go looking through his car."

"But he sent me."

"How am I supposed to know that? Look around you, kid, you don't think a dozen other assholes have tried that bit when they see a nice car in here? I mean, you even know his damn name?"

"Yeah. Renji Abarai. You know he's in the hospital right? He can't come here himself."

"Yeah, I know."

"_Well_."

"Well unless Renji Abarai gives me a call, I can't give you shit from his car."

"Come on, he needs his stuff. It's just in the dash—"

"Beat it kid. No exceptions."

Ichigo shifted his weight from one foot to the other and bit his lip. Blue eyes swept over him, assessing him in one quick sweep.

"He's gonna be pissed," Ichigo pressed.

"He'll be even more pissed if I let some kid make off with his stuff." Grimmjow took a step forward, straightening, and Ichigo knew the conversation was over. The man's shoulders were broad, his chest and arms corded with muscles and Ichigo had to tilt his head back to meet his eyes when he was this close. "Time to go, kid."

Ichigo took a step back, pretending to be freaked. Instead though, he was making a mental note of the back door in the garage that connected to the apartment above, the locks to the garage door, the safety deposit box where keys to cars were probably kept overnight.

"Okay," he said backing away. "Sorry."

He knew blue eyes remained on him the whole way down the street, but he never turned back. He wouldn't, not until the shop went dark.

* * *

Ichigo inched his way along the grated walk way until he was at the very edge. He dropped off the edge into the black and caught the edge of the next building. A rush of wind left him, but he recovered and pulled himsef back up over the edge. Two more lunges and he was on the building at the corner of the street.

Getting through the garage doors was out of the question. Getting in through the apartment, however, was doable.

He landed lightly on the firesape and pressed his back against brick just in case the man inside saw. He waited for several moments before inching toward the window and checking for the occupant.

He was both cursed and blessed by what he saw. First off, the window was open, so he didn't have to try breaking it or anything. But on the downside, he was looking in on the mechanic's bedroom.

"Fuck," he breathed. He waited a long time, watching the sleeping figure. He could see a glass on the nightstan and a white bottle, possibly pills. He knew just enough about this guy to know he was a class one criminal and probably a drugie. Ichigo had to hope he'd taken enough of whatever it was to keep him under.

He pushed the window the rest of the way up. It was a hot night and he was already sweating. Then he dropped inside the apartment.

No movement from the bed. He'd gone unheard. He inched his way along the wooden floor. He could see the apartment was a loft, and below was a tiled kitchen, leather couch and big screen. This guy had it pretty sweet in a neighborhood of miscreants. It was a wonder what he was doing in these parts if he was this loaded.

Ichigo stilled his mind and focussed on the task at hand. All he had to do was get to the stairs, down them and get into the garage from the ground floor. Simple. Except when he glanced back to check the occupant of the bed, he wasn't there.

"Shit."

Ichigo ducked under the kick just before it made contact. He rolled backward and popped up with a punch but his opponent had sidestepped his swing and his arm was caught. He spun across the room, his back smacking into the support beam at the top of the stairs. He blocked the next strike and swept at the mechanic's bare feet. He hit nothing and next thing knuckles were in his jaw and he was on all fours on the hardwood.

A foot glanced his ribs but he rolled away from the blow and caught the next kick. The guy was clearly not expecting it and when Ichigo twisted he fell against the floor as well, a grunt of surprise escaping him.

Ichigo jumped up again and gave himself some distance. It was dark, but his eyes had adjusted a while ago. He watched the mechanic kip up smoothly, sweeping back his mess of blue hair and grinning like an animal.

"You surprised me, kid." There was a dangerous glint in those blue eyes. Ichigo had a terrible cold feeling that the man had been waiting for him. Despite his words, he didn't seem surprised at all. "Didn't think you were a fighter."

Ichigo might be slight in his build, but that was only because he was young. In another few years all his years of training would pay off—he'd be as strong and muscular as the man before him.

"So what's so valuable in the Caddie that you would risk sneaking in here?"

"None of your damn business."

"None of my business? You're in my fucking house!"

Grimmjwo came at him. Ichigo ran to meet the blow and at the last second slide tackled the man. Grimmjow crashed to one side but when Ichigo made a kick his ankle was caught and Grimmjow yanked back hard, causing Ichigo to land on his tailbone. Pain screeched up his backside and he slammed his palm against the floor instead of screaming. Grimmjow still had his ankle, though, and yanked him forward again, until they were entangled on the floor.

Grimmjow got one wrist pinned but Ichigo's other hand shot into his sternum. Hot air escaped him and Ichigo could taste the liquor in his breath. So he wasn't on his a-game, he should be able to win this fight. He brought his elbow up this time and got him in the ribs but next thing Grimmjow's elbow came across his face.

He tasted the blood. He was pretty sure it was coming from his nose but it somehow got into his throat and he coughed it back out. Another strike made him blink back darkness but he was far from out of this fight.

He brought his right leg up and his left arm down, throwing Grimmjow off balanace and rolling him to the side. There was a mad scramble in which Ichigo felt his shirt tear but he escaped once more and backed up to the stairs.

Grimmjow was already standing. He looked a bit pissed now and his eyes shot to the stairs at Ichigo's back. Would he shove him down, if given the chance? Ichigo didn't have much of a read on this guy yet, but somehow, he figured he wouldn't take the cheap out.

He took his chances and bolted down the steps. He made it to the bottom unscathed but Grimmjow had followed and jumped the rail behind him, landing just before him on the tile floor. His punch sent Ichigo spinning into the kitchen counter. Damn. This guy had a punch twice as powerful as any asshole bully Ichigo had dealt with over the years.

His jaw ached. His body quivered. He needed to down this guy before he took any more damage.

He threw his foot back. The guy barely dodge. Ichigo grabbed a stool and swung it at the man but it was more of a diversionary tactic. He rushed him and went for a kidney shot. It paid off and Grimmjow cursed. They were both panting now. Ichigo hadn't been in a fight that had lasted this long in…a long, long time.

Grimmjow caught him with a square blow. Shit, he was losing. He fell against the sink, hitting something so that cold water sprayed back up on him. The next think his hair was gripped and he was bent into the stainless steel basin, water hitting him in the face so hard it blinded him.

Grimmjow brought a knee into his gut. He gasped and got a mouthful of water. It went straight to his lungs. He gagged. There was a hand around his trachea.

Shit. He was gonna die in this fucking sink.

He kicked wildly. He got lucky. Grimmjow dropped him and he collapsed from the sink, puking water over the tile floor. But his hair was gripped again. He knew the strike was coming and instead of trying to pry the hand from his hair he caught the fist, twisted and heard Grimmjow curse again. He was forced to let him go or suffer a broken wrist. They fell apart. Ichigo gripped the counter, still gasping. Grimmjow shook out the pain in his wrist.

"Last chance to explain yourself." Grimmjow balled his fist again.

"Fuck you."

Grimmjow grinned. "Good, so I don't have to take it easy on you."

Ichigo tried a different tactic. He ran first, but dodge to one side at the last second. His elbow came back into Grimmjow's spine. Then he turned sharply and chopped him in the neck. He stumbled away, clearly not having expected the move. But he was still on his feet, and Ichigo's near drowning had weakened him. So when Grimmjow came back with a swing and Ichigo tried to block it, he lost his balance and was thrown into the wall. He threw up his hands to block those that tried to strangle him, but received another knee to the gut.

It floored him. He gasped for air. None came. He smelt oil and brandy and sweat. Grimmjow's elbow was hooked beneath his neck. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move.

He'd lost.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews. Warning: some very dark subject matter in this chapter.**

* * *

"You are one dumb fuck for sneaking into _my _place."

Ichigo's head snapped up at the voice. He'd been wavering in and out of consciousness for the last few minutes but now he was fully aware of his surroundings. He'd already tested the chain around his wrists. He'd already felt the duct tape across his chest, and he could see from here the tight wire around his ankles. Given that Grimmjow as a mechanic, he was pretty sure there was no escape from his restraints.

"Though I'll admit, you gave me a run for my money there. You study martial arts or somethin'?"

He brought his head up slowly. Everything ached. His face was bruised and he could feel the skin tight in places indicating swelling. His neck cracked and his ribs groaned. But he made no noise as he straightened and met the man's gaze.

The mechanic was at his kitchen table, feet up, drink in one hand, smoke in the other. He seemed completely at ease for someone who was dealing with a break and enter.

"Found the stash in the car, after I tied you up. That's enough cocaine to put a guy away for life. Either you're really tight with this Abarai guy to cover up for him, or you really wanted to score big by ripping that out of the seats and selling it for yourself."

"You don't know anything."

"Actually, I think I've got your pretty well figured out," he nodded to the scattered contents of Ichigo's wallet on the table by his feet, "Ichigo Kurosaki. Nineteen, living in the city, share an address with this Abarai guy too. So I think I know which one of my guesses is correct. " He grinned. "Aren't you a loyal little bitch."

Ichigo bristled. "You don't know shit!"

Grimmjow's boots hit the floor hard. Ichigo stilled as he stood and approached.

"I know that you're the one who broke in here and I ain't got time for your shit. That coke is mine now. As for—"

"No fucking way!"

"What did you say?"

"I said no! That's Renji's shit."

"Not anymore."

"He's in the fucking hospital!"

"Who the fuck cares?"

"ARGH!"

Ichigo's chair nearly topple as he reared in anger. Grimmjow caught it and still him, leaning in close.

"Listen here, kid. I could do so much worse to you. You should be grateful."

"If Renji doesn't deliver, they'll kill him."

"Not my problem."

"Oh yeah? And what happens when you try to push that much shit? You don't think people aren't going to figure out where it came from? You'll get dragged into this mess too."

"Come on, kid, I ain't dumb. I know how to unload stolen shit without getting caught. You, however, seem to be pretty novice in all of this."

"Come off it. What do you need with it? Look at you, you're all set up here. It's more trouble than it's worth."

"Is that so?"

"Yes." Ichigo lowered his voice. "Come on, just let me go."

"Sure."

"I mean, _with_ the coke."

"No."

"You bastard."

"You watch your mouth, kid."

Ichigo took a breath. He didn't know what to do. He hadn't planned this far ahead.

"It's that or I call the cops," Grimmjow continued.

"Like you'd call them with that much cocaine in your place."

"I've already moved it, idiot. It ain't here. I got no problem calling the cops. This place is legit, you know."

Ichigo inhaled slowly. Was it true? This fucker had thought of everything. He bowed his head.

"I take it you get the picture."

Ichigo didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. Grimmjow moved behind him. Ichigo felt the chains slide away.

"I don't ever wanna see your face again, kid. You better realize how easy you're getting off."

Ichigo stood, numb. Grimmjow passed him back his wallet. Ichigo put it in his pocket, but all it would be good for now was identifying his body. He followed Grimmjow at a snail's pace, through the room, down a few steps and into the garage. He saw the ripped up seats in Renji's Caddie and knew it was true, the drugs were gone. Grimmjow unlocked a back door and held it open for him.

"Don't come back here, understand?"

"Don't worry," Ichigo whispered, stepping past him onto the street. "I'll be dead by tomorrow."

"Good."

The door slammed shut behind him. He fell back against it, his knees failing him.

"Renji…" he breathed, pressing his forehead into his knees. "I'm sorry."

* * *

Ten million yen.

Ten, _fucking_, million.

Ichigo's head fell back against brick. He stared up at the grey dawn. He'd been out all night since the incident at the garage but he'd come up with nothing. There was no way now—no way in Hell they'd pay their debts.

Should he go back to the hospital? Should he spend his last hours with the person who'd put him in this predicament in the first place?

He told himself it wasn't Renji's fault. He told himself his best friend's temperament wasn't to blame for their embroilment with the Numeros Gang. He told himself it wasn't Renji's fault he'd gotten so high that night he'd thought it a good idea to rip off some street gang for quick cash to pay his drug debts.

Ichigo shook his head. They'd put that behind them. It was over now for them both. He didn't want his last thoughts of his only friend in this world to be about all that.

He pushed off the wall and looked around. He was barely a block from the garage. He hadn't had the will to walk much farther in the night. Was there some place…any place around here where he could earn the money—wrack up another debt to pay this one off?

He glanced at his watch. Whatever he did, he had less than twelve hours to pull it off.

* * *

Visiting hours were over. That didn't stop _this_ visitor from pacing with purpose down florescent-lit corridors, past guerny pushing porters and wheel-chair bound patients.

Grimmjow Jaggerjaques shivered. He _hated _hospitals.

He passed door after door, glancing quickly inside each room. His footstops came to a sudden stop at door number 345 where he saw long red hair and a mess of tattoos.

"Holy shit." The patient sat straighter as the door fell shut.

"Shit is right," Grimmjow greeted, hands in pockets and taking a stance that implied he was not here on friendly business. "Mind telling me why your car was packed full of coke?"

The patient stiffened. His face was black and blue from impacting with the steering wheel. His left arm was in a cast.

"Abarai," Grimmjow pressed.

After a long stare down, Renji relaxed back a bit. "Nice to see you again too, buddy."

"Cut the crap. Just 'cause we were cell mates doesn't mean I owe you any damn favours. I knew something was up when you had your car hauled to me. It ain't even yours, is it?"

"Stole it from the same people I stole the merchandise from."

"You bastard!" Grimmjow closed the distance and grabbed Renji by the front of his johnny shirt. "Who's shit have I been sitting on?"

"No one big."

"No one big? No one _small_ has that much coke in one load."

"Back off alright?"

"No I won't fucking back off. Tell me who!"

"Sinclair."

"Shit." Grimmjow threw him back, running a hand through his hair. "Sinclair's joint is less than ten fucking blocks from mine."

"That's why he won't look there."

"Did he run you off the road then?"

"Nah, the people who tried to rip me off when I went to sell it to them did."

"Shit, Renji, how many people have you pissed off?"

"Too many."

"Okay then, last question. Why are you selling it? You must owe someone some pretty big cash. Drugs were never your thing—not before anyway."

"You always were sharp."

"Tell me."

"You're gonna be pissed."

"TELL ME!"

"The Numeros."

Grimmjow froze where he'd been pacing. Slowly, the news broke over him like a wave that soaked his clothes and weighed him down. He returned to the bed, hands coming down hard on the side rail. He bent his head forward and took a long breath, steadying himself.

"You did _not_ just say what I think you said."

"Sorry Jaggerjaques."

"I'm going to murder you myself."

"Get in line."

"THIS AIN'T A FUCKING JOKE!" His hand returned to Renji's shirt front. "You know my past with them! You know everything! So why the fuck did you involve me?"

"Because I didn't know what else to do."

"I haven't seen you in two years. I don't want shit to do with the Numeros and you know it. Just what gives you the right—"

"Ichigo."

"What?"

"If it was just me, it would be different. But I got Ichigo involved. He's probably out there right now trying to pull our asses out of the fire."

"Too fucking right, he is. He broke into my damn apartment looking for your stash. If I hadn't figured out who he was to you, he wouldn't have just walked away."

Renji gripped Grimmjow back at this. "What the hell did you do to him?"

"Nothing, asshole. I ain't that guy anymore, remember?"

"Remember? I remember an awful lot of shit you did _after_ you said you turned over a new leaf."

"And I remember you saying you were getting clean after prison. But here you are, owing debts to drugies and organized criminals."

"I couldn't cut it."

"You should never have started in the can. I warned you, messes you up."

"Well, you were right, happy?"

"Hardly. If I'd known then what you were gonna do to me now, I woulda strangled you in your sleep."

"I haven't done anything to you. You have the shit, right? Just cash it in for me and I'll owe you one."

"Owe me one? Abarai you realize a few years ago I would have already slit your throat over this shit."

"Yeah, a few years ago."

"Well old habits die hard. Maybe I'll go find that kid and—"

"Leave Ichigo alone."

"Who the fuck is he to you anyway? You know what, never mind, I don't give a shit. All I care about is getting clear of this. Tell me who you need to pay and where."

"You'll do it? You'll pay it off for me?"

"Not for you. I need out of this shit now too. Just give me the details and I'll settle it."

Renji gave him the information. Grimmjow memorized it then made his exit. But he stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder.

"And Abarai, when you get out of here, come see me. You're in my debt now."

* * *

The drugs and the car were gone by mid morning. No one would ever find the car and the drugs could not be traced back to Grimmjow anymore. The cash, however, was in his hand, and by nightfall, he had it stashed in his coat pocket where he stood on the harbour front.

It was a stupid fucking place to meet. Out in the open. Near the water that could easily consume a body. Grimmjow shifted nervously. Five years ago this would have been nothing to him. Now it was everything—everything he'd tried to get away from since going away.

It wasn't like he was a do-gooder. He was just done with that fucking gang and all the shit that happened to him while he was with them.

He saw a spark of orange, recognized it as a burning cigarette. His hand twitched. He pulled the parcel of cash out at once, hoping to hand it off without incident.

"Come on, is that all the greeting I get after all this time?"

His hand tightened over the envelope. He'd hoped it would be a new member sent out on such an errand but no such luck. That sly smile could belong to no one else by Nnoitra. He nearly cringed at the sight of the tall, dark haired man with sharp, cruel eyes that raked over every inch of him.

"How in the Hell did you become Abarai's messenger?"

"Just take it."

"Oh right, you two were cozy in the joint, weren't you?"

"Shut up."

"You aren't still upset about that, are you?"

"JUST TAKE IT!"

He hurled the package over the peir at Nnoitra. The Numeros frowned and stepped over it, as if the 10 million yen inside were nothing.

"I'm actually a little disappointed. I was looking forward to cutting those two up. But then again, a chance to see you again…"

Grimmjow said nothing as he was approached. He saw the movement near the crates behind him. Judging by the sizes of the shadows—one small and slender, the other tall and hulking—it was Yammy and Ulquiorra.

"Their debt is cleared. It's over." Grimmjow stepped away. Nnoitra's long hand shot out in the dark and grabbed his wrist.

"Not so fast. We haven't had a chance to catch up."

"Let go, Nnoitra, or I'll kick your ass."

"As if you could."

"Just let go. The deal is over, we have no issue."

"Sure we do. The issue of you leaving a gang that no one is ever supposed to leave."

"I didn't leave. I got sent away for two fucking years."

"Yes and you got out two years ago. So why didn't you come back?"

"You know why. And it didn't seem to be an issue until tonight."

"Yes well, seeing you again, it sort of pisses me off. You think you're better than us or something?"

"Just let it the fuck go."

"No!" Nnoitra struck. His arms were long and Grimmjow couldn't avoid it but he did rip his hand away and give himself some distance. The problem was Yammy was waiting and arms came down around him in a bear hug, trapping him.

"This is tiresome," Ulquiorra said calmly as he watched Nnoitra plant a fist in Grimmjow's gut. "We have no further business with him."

"Yeah, well I do."

He swung again. Grimmjow spat blood. Ulquiorra crossed the pier to retrieve their money. Yammy hauled Grimmjow's head back, opening him up for more, but Nnoitra smiled darkly and reached inside his pocket.

"Did you know, Yammy, that Grimmjow got himself clean when he was on the inside? Not even a single dose of coke or heroine in over three years. When I found out he was making the drop tonight, I just had to bring a little something along to celebrate the reunion."

He drew out a syringe. Grimmjow's eyes shot wide. Then he fought with everthing he had.

It wasn't enough.

By the time Ulquiorra made his way back to them, Yammy had Grimmjow face down on the pier and Nnoitra was just pulling the needle out of Grimmjow's arm. He tossed the syringe into the harbour and Yammy let go of the now still meachanic.

"Did you kill him?"

"No. I just revived him." Nnoitra gave Grimmjow a nudge. He stirred, pushed his hands into the peir and got up. He straightened out his shirt sleeve and the rest of his clothes, then raised his eyes to the three.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you."

He lunged. Yammy sent him flat. They left him still coughing at the water's edge.

That was when the orange haired teen rounded the corner. He saw the three and froze. They barely glanced his way. The shortest one commented on his way by, "All debts are paid." And left him.

Ichigo had come here empty handed, prepared to beg for Renji's life, but they left him untouched in the night. The only person left was trying to pick himself up off the pier.

For a moment, Ichigo thought Renji had somehow gotten out of the hospital and sorted it all for them. But then he saw the hint of blue even in the dark, and heard the angry curse, so familiar from the night before.

"Jaggerjaques?" He approached carefully, seeing the man stagger. "Hey, Jaggerjaques, what's going on?"

Grimmjow stumbled several paces and Ichigo caught him around the shoulders. He shook his head from side to side and then shoved Ichigo away.

"Hey, it's me, from last night. Why are you here? Did you have something to do with—"

"Gha!"

Grimmjow screamed and threw his fist into a crate. Nothing happened to the wood but his skin split open over the knuckles. He didn't even seem to notice. He remained leaned against it, fingers digging into the wood, then he kicked it over and over as another scream of fury ripped out of him.

"Jaggerjaques!"

Ichigo caught his arm before he could do more damage to his fist. Grimmjow still tried to swing and dragged Ichigo forward a step or two. Then he seemed to notice him all at once. His fist came up to the teen's throat and suddenly he was the object of his anger.

Ichigo fell back against the pier, hard. Grimmjow landed on top of him and gripped his shoulders, pulling him back up only to slam him down again.

Ichigo's vision went black for a second. Then he snapped too as he was being hauled up again. He couldn't take another hit like that without losing consciousness. He threw a hand up and caught Grimmjow in the throat.

The other fell back. Neither of them got up right away. Ichigo was still stunned from the blow. He sat under the lamp light, and began to notice what was wrong with Grimmjow. His coat had been abandoned several yards back. His shirt sleeve was torn and dangled around his forearm. As he tried to right himself now, Ichigo noticed he was shaking. And when he faced him, he saw the dilation of his eyes. He was very, very high on something very, very dangerous.

"Shit. What did you take?"

Ichigo knew he needed to get away from him. Someone that far gone and with the fighting skills of Grimmjow could do him a lot of damage, even kill him. But at the same time, there was no way Grimmjow wasn't involved in clearing his debt somehow. He'd been here with those three from the Numeros and Ichigo knew it was the only reason he was still breathing. So he retreated down the pier, got Grimmjow's coat and returned to him. Ichigo peeled back his sleeve and saw the injection sight. It was really rough and bleeding.

"Did they give it to you?"

Grimmjow said nothing. He just yanked his coat back and began forcing his arms into it.

He started to walk away. He began to curve and fell against the side of a warehouse. Ichigo hurried to catch up to him.

Grimmjow fumbled with keys when they got to his place. Ichigo took them from him and opened the garage. They got in and Grimmjow began to strip his coat and shirt, rubbing at his arms and chest as if something was there he couldn't see. Then he found the staircase and somehow got himself from the garage into his kitchen.

Ichigo locked the garage behind him and chased him up the stair. Everything was back in place, despite their fight yesterday. He felt all the aches and pains from it, and remembered Grimmjow mercilessly kicking him out into the street. He hadn't seemed to care if he lived or died so what had changed?

"What happened tonight? Why were you there? Why is my debt cleared?"

Grimmjow was guzzling water, spilling half of it. He slammed his glass down so hard it cracked.

"I paid it," he said shortly.

"Why?"

"Because Abarai asked me to."

"What?"

But Ichigo had to duck when the glass went hurtling over his shoulder and into the far wall, smashing into a million dangerous shard.

"That bastard! He did this! He did this to me!"

"Renji?"

"YES!" He grabbed another dish and hurled it at Ichigo. He had to duck behind the counter. It smashed right on the edge and shattered just above his head.

He remained down this time and called around the island counter.

"You know him?"

"He was my fucking cell mate! And I told him—I told him not to dope up in there. I told him what it would turn into. I TOLD HIM!"

More smashing. Ichigo was pretty sure he was just breaking whatever was in his vicinity now.

"I'm going to kill him. I am. I'm going there right now and I'm gonna strangle him in his fucking hospital bed."

Ichigo heard stomping. It certainly sounded like Grimmjow meant it.

"Wait!" He moved to get into Grimmjow's way. "Just calm down. You aren't thinking straight."

"Of course I'm not! Look what they did to me!" He pointed to his arm. "Three fucking years I didn't touch the shit and now—cause of that bastard—"

He was so angry he couldn't speak. He shoved Ichigo to the side but Ichigo bounced back and grabbed him by the arm.

"Stop, just stop! You need to lay down or something."

"I need to kill him!"

"No. Grimmjow stop. You'll get arrested. You know that. Just stop."

"He has to pay. I don't give a damn about being his cell mate. He screwed me over tonight. He owes me big."

"He's got nothing," Ichigo argued. "It's over now, just let it go."

"NO! He needs to pay his fucking debts!"

"Then let me. It was my debt too. Let me pay it."

"And what do you got?"

"I don't know? What do you want?"

Grimmjow's hands came up around Ichigo's shoulders. He started to push him away again, then stopped and pulled him closer, staring into his eyes.

"Who are you to him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is he your lover?"

Ichigo's face burned. "N-no."

"He is, isn't he?"

Ichigo didn't know what to say. Renji was his best friend—had been for years, before all this other shit that messed up their lives. Everything else…it had come later. It was new, it was confusing. Ichigo didn't know what to call Renji anymore.

"He seemed awful concerned about you when I showed up at the hospital today. He thought I'd done something nasty to you."

"You went to see him?"

"I told him I'd sort his shit out. For a price."

Grimmjow's fingers tightened over Ichigo to the point they hurt. He tried shrugging out of the grip but Grimmjow just dragged him forward.

"I'm gonna let you pay Renji's debt after all."

Suddenly he spun and shoved Ichigo further into the apartment. Grimmjow marched him right through the minefield of shards and gave Ichigo another harsh shove out of the kitchen and into the stairs going up to the loft.

He fell forward onto them. Grimmjow grabbed his arm and hauled him up again.

"Come on."

"Grimmjow, hang on."

"You said you'd pay."

"Yeah but—"

Ichigo was shoved again once at the top and he fell against the side of the bed. He turned slowly. Grimmjow had come to a stop, and was watching him with cruel, cold eyes.

"It's this or I take it out on Renji. You have no idea what he did to me tonight. He's ruined everything. He's got nothing to give me and neither do you—nothing but this. So take off your fucking clothes and get in the bed."

Ichigo watched him, stunned. Grimmjow was in an altered state, vibrating with rage and the energy of the drugs in his system.

"Let me make this simple." Grimmjow reached for his phone. "I know who Renji stole that shit from. If you don't do this for me, I'll call him. Tonight. Tomorrow. The next day—whenever I feel like it. I see it in your eyes kid. You think this is just gonna go away if you run or fight, well it ain't. If Renji doesn't find some way to pay his debts back to me, then that's what I'm gonna do."

"Shit," Ichigo breathed. Grimmjow knew that much. He could use it anytime against Renji. He sank back against the bed. There was no way out of this unless he killed Grimmjow, and he wasn't prepared to do that.

"Take, your fucking clothes off," He repeated.

Ichigo didn't have much time to process the demand because Grimmjow strode forward and began to take action himself. He turned Ichigo around and shoved him face first onto the bed, yanking his shirt up over his head. Then he began to force his belt and pants off.

Ichigo lay against the sheets as he was bared. He didn't help. He didn't fight. In fact, he didn't move at all until Grimmjow barked at him to get up on the bed all the way.

Numbly, he pushed himself forward. He had barely crawled up to the pillows when a hand slammed into his head and shoved it down on the sheets.

Ichigo managed to turn his head sideways so he wasn't suffocated. He stared at his own fist, balled in the sheets next to his head. Beyond it was a closet, the door open, revealing the stained shirts of a grease monkey.

He screamed.

He didn't fight. The whole night he never once struck out. Because he couldn't—not if he wanted to save Renji. But he did weep. He was overcome by the pain. Any pleasure he felt was dulled by it, even if he came over the edge, it didn't cancel out the rest. Grimmjow was full of rage, and that rage came out on him.

Eventually the man left him, staggering away to slam his fist in the wall and collapse with his head in his hands, screaming at invisible figures from another lifetime. Ichigo remained in the bed that smelled of oil and ashes and tears.


	3. Chapter 3

Grimmjow woke naked on the floor. He tasted acid and felt dried vomit around his mouth. He'd been sick, apparently. He didn't remember it. He sat stiffly, sore all over, and the weight of a sickness he hadn't felt in three years.

His whole being went cold. They'd done it to him. They'd shot him up after all these years. And it was all because of that red haired bastard.

He'd get his revenge.

But when he gripped the wall and forced his feet under him, he saw the tangled bedspread, the drops of blood and heard the shower behind him. He remembered that he had in fact, taken his revenge last night.

He struggled back into his pants, glanced the devastation downstairs and then fell back against his bed. The smell of sex was strong and he balled the sheets up, tossing them into the corner. He sat again, covering his face with his hands just as the bathroom door opened.

Between his fingers, he watched the young man stagger. He clutched the door frame, then lurched and grabbed the rail that overlooked the kitchen. He was the colour of the bedsheets behind him—stark white but dotted with red—a cut lip, a tiny slice beneath his eye from a shttered plate, a speck of red above his eyebrow. Grimmjow closed his fingers again. He didn't want to see him.

"I'm going," the boy announced, saying nothing of his pain as he worked his way along the rail. "The debt's paid, right?"

His feet came to a stop. Grimmjow drew his hands down again. The world rocked before him, but when it steadied again, he focused in on the young man. His eyes were raw. He'd been crying, but he was trying to hide it now.

"Jaggerjaques?" he pressed.

"Yes." He spat out, voice hoarse.

"Good." He returned to working his way down the rail, then the stairs. When he was at the bottom, Girmmjow stood and watched him from the upper landing until he was at the garage entrence.

When he was gone, Grimmjow slid back from the rail and sat on the hardwood, dragged a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up.

* * *

Ichigo did not go to visit Renji at the hospital. He remained in the single bedroom apartment all day, curled on the bed, trying not to relive the night's events, the choices, what he might have done differently to avoid it all.

He should have left Grimmjow on the pier. He should have left him to die in his drug induced state.

But as soon as he thought it, he knew that was wrong. There had to have been another way, any other way for that night to have turned out. In fact, nothing had turned out the way it was supposed to since Renji went away and came back a different man.

It took a long time, but he eventually got up the will to go to the bathroom. He showered, again. This morning he'd had to use Grimmjow's shower gel but he wanted it off before Renji came back. He didn't want to smell that man, even think about him.

He saw the thick scratches over his back in the bathroom mirror. He saw bruises on his throat and around his shoulders. Renji would see. He'd ask. How could he ever explain it?

He dressed in long sleeves and jeans. He sat in the living room, numb. He didn't eat and he couldn't sleep. Late that night the doorknob turned and Renji limped in, arm in a sling, bruised face creased with worry.

When Ichigo met his eyes he swallowed it all back. He rose and helped Renji to bed, apologized for not meeting him at the hospital or answering the phone. He'd explain it all later, he said, in the morning. But he didn't plan to explain anything. He never wanted to say out loud what he'd done to save Renji.

* * *

Grimmjow stared at his own two hands. The garage was closed. The kitchen was clean—in fact, it was spotless. The whole loft was: the sheets bleached, bathroom scrubbed down, every last fragment of shattered dishware disposed. There was no trace of Ichigo left here. No evidence of what had happened the night before, except for the red mark in his arm.

He pressed his hands tighter to the table, supressing the urge to scratch at the spot, irritate it more. The faster it healed, the faster he could forget.

Except his body didn't forget. It didn't forget one second of those years he'd spent high as a fucking kite on Nnoitra's home made concoction that could be sudden death to those not prepared for it. He was lucky he didn't die when they'd locked him up. Then again, the withdrawal had almost kill him.

But he'd kicked it. He'd kicked everything but tobacco, whisky and sleeping pills.

Now look where he was. No matter how hard he pressed his hands into the tabletop, they still shook. No matter how many times he tried to think of something else, he couldn't. He hated it. Hated Nnoitra. Hated who he was when he took it. Hated what it did to his mind and his body.

And yet he wanted it more than anything.

* * *

Ichigo examined the purple and green bruises all down Renji's side, hip and leg. The car had smashed in on his left side and the metal had been driven in to his body. His arm had broken. Around his knee there was a thick bandage supporting the swollen joint.

"Don't try getting up," Ichigo warned when Renji started to shift his weight to one side of the bed.

"I'm tired of being in a bed all day."

"You just got released. Relax, alright?"

When Renji tried to bend his knee, he let out a thick breath of pain. He nodded in defeat and lay back. "Yeah, alright."

Ichigo fixed his pillows for him then sat back on the edge of the bed.

"Ichigo."

"Yeah?"

"You haven't asked about the debt."

"Yeah."

"You didn't come to the hospital yesterday either."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"I was going crazy. I thought something had happened to you, that you'd gone to the deal or….I don't know."

Ichigo hesitated. What should he say?

"I did go," he started. "And I saw the mechanic there."

"Ichigo. He told me you broke into his place. That was insane. You realize if he hadn't known you were close to me you'd be dead."

If he hadn't known…if he hadn't thought he was important to Renji, he never would have forced him to sleep with him.

"Ichigo?"

"I'm sorry, Renji. I didn't know what to do."

"I know. I'm sorry, Ichigo. All this shit is my fault. But it's straightened out now. I just owe Grimmjow a favour. That's it. We're in the clear."

"Actually…Grimmjow doesn't want to see you again. He says the debts done, just stay clear."

"Wait, what? How do you know that?"

"I spoke with him after the deal went down."

"But I owe him big for all that shit."

"He was pissed off—big time. I think he just wants his privacy."

Skepticism crossed Renji's tired face. Ichigo waited, tense, but maybe the residual drugs in his system decreased his ability to sense Ichigo's lie. He accepted it. Just like that, Ichigo thought he was in the clear.

"Well then we really are free and clear. And I promise we're going to keep it that way now."

"I know." Ichigo didn't say anything about the fact he'd heard this promise once before. He thought back to the town where they'd met, years ago, and the cooky shop keep who'd taken them in off the street. After everything that had happened, he wanted to go back there.

"Maybe we need a fresh start…" Ichigo began but Renji frowned at once. He was less willing to return to their old haunts, or even find new ones. For one thing they'd each lose their jobs and have to start from scratch. For antoher, if they went home, he'd have to look Urahara in the eye for the first time since being sent away.

"We can talk about it later," Renji diverted.

"Okay."

"You sure you're alright? Grimmjow didn't hurt you in that fight, did he?"

"No, I'm just tired."

"Then get in here." He drew the sheets back but Ichigo withdrew. He couldn't risk Renji seeing anything. "Not now. I need to shower." It was a lie since he'd already done so twice in the last twenty four hours.

"Okay, well I'll be here." He joked lamely. Ichigo smiled and went to the bathroom. He shut the door and sank against the toilet. He hoped to gods he was in the clear now.

* * *

"Another."

Grimmjow tapped his glass against the bar. The barman swapped it out for a fresh one. He gave Grimmjow a once over though, as if assessing how close he was to his limit. Or maybe he was worried by the way Grimmjow had been staring at a pair of young guys in the back.

Grimmjow knew those two sold hard stuff. It wouldn't be the same as Nnoitra's blend, but it would be a good hit.

He cursed himself. A day ago he'd sold plenty of good stuff to shitheads like this and now he was looking to buy it back. He downed the drink and stood.

Fuck, he was _not_ going to be this weak. He just had to ride it out. Another few days and the hunger for it would dull, then it would become the manageable background noise in his mind it had been for the past three years.

He slammed down bills and left the bar. He waved off the buxom young woman who flashed him a yellow smile and cooed promises of satisfaction.

"Not my type," he muttered.

He slammed the door to the garage open and shut. He surveyed the mess from the day. He'd only worked a few hours, unable to concentrate. The car in his bay should have been finished by morning. He was too far gone to do it now though.

He glanced the time on the clock. Two fucking am. He'd sleep off the drinks and then get to work earl. Maybe.

He had his shirt off and thrown in the hamper when he heard a noise. For an instant, his mind flashed back to the orange haired teen who had so boldly broken in here. Then he once again remembered what he'd done to him. It was probably Renji, now, looking for revenge. Well fuck him. He deserved anything Grimmjow dished out after dropping him in it like this.

Grimmjow reached above his head and pulled down the box on the top shelf of the closet. The gun was already loaded. He moved over to the stairs and took aim.

"Damn, Jaggerjaques, you're losing your edge."

"Shit."

The door to the garage pushed open but the voice came from Grimmjow's left. He spun, but not fast enough. The gun went sailing over the edge of rail and the next thing Grimmjow was half-way over himself. Nnoitra smiled ear to ear, hand around Grimmjow's throat, casually keeping him balanced between life and death.

"You took your time. I've been waiting."

Down below he could just see Yammy coming in. He'd probably kept an eye from a car somewhere while Nnoitra had been in here the whole time.

"What the fuck?" he demanded, both hands wrapped around Nnoitra's wrists to prevent himself falling.

"You should have known, Grimmjow. Once I saw you again, I couldn't let it go."

Yammy was up the stairs now. Nnoitra hauled Grimmjow back onto the landing and thrust him inYammy's direction. Grimmjow face planted from the punch. Then there was a knee in his back and the sound of duct tape being pulled from the roll.

"What the Hell?" He struggled as his hands were bound. Yammy let up after that and he flipped himself onto his back so he could sit up. Nnoitra put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down, Grimmjow. You know I'd never hurt you too bad."

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

"You know."

"It's been years."

"What's that saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder. And after the other night, I guess I started getting nostalgic for the good old days."

Grimmjow shrugged out of his grip. The good old days were a blur of blood and sex and violence and most of all being too high to think straight. The good old days had cost him two years of his life. The good old days had meant taking orders and getting the shit kicked out of him if he dared speak up or mess up.

And the good old days had meant some pretty intense nights between the sheets with the man staring at him now.

"I won't make you come back with me," Nnoitra assured. "I just came here to remind you what you've left behind."

He leaned in. Grimmjow pulled back.

Nnoitra frowned. "Fine. Yammy."

"FUCK OFF!" Grimmjow's head was gripped by the giant and a hand wrapped around his chest, pinning him against Yammy. He writhed in the hold, knowing what was coming.

"You once loved me, Grimmjow," Nnoitra took out the syringe. "I know it mostly had to do with this, but I was alright with that. We had a good thing going. I want you to remember that."

"Don't you fucking dare."

"I know the first one's already affected you. You want this, so don't pretend you don't."

"Fuck off!"

He tried to kick but Nnoitra just pushed his knee into the ground with his own as he knelt over him, finding a vein.

"NNOITRA!"

His blood boiled. Then serene calm took him for several seconds. He blinked slowly, the world undulating around him then settling back into a slightly more fluid version of itself. Physics took a break for a while, as did his pain receptors and his emotional control. He fell away from Yammy, pressing his head into the floor, gasping on unshed tears. The sorrow lasted only a moment, however, before transforming into pure rage that screamed out of him defeaning him as they bounced back off the floor boards beneath him.

Then long, slender arms ensnared him, pressed him against a sharp collarbone beneath an even sharper grin. His head rested against the enemy's chest as his body shuddered in sudden exhaustion.

"Don't you want to feel those highs again, Grimmjow?"

The hand slid down his chest. He watched it find his buckle. He shook his head. He began to wake up from the first, numbing surge of disorientation. Then he was on the bed and his belt was on the floor and he didn't remember getting there but Nniotra's lips were on his throat and he tried to sit up but Nnoitra pressed him flat.

"Stop," he managed. Why was he so tired? Usually it energized him, but this time he felt the weight of something else. "What the fuck did you mix in it?"

"Nothing that will mess you up," Nnoitra assured. "You'll be fine."

"What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" His hand slid down Grimmjow's torso. "Look, you _are_ having a good time."

Grimmjow sat up in reaction to Nnoitra's touch but a heavy hand forced him back down again. Yammy's own eyes were glazed as he kept one hand tight to Grimmjow's throat.

"What the hell?"

"Don't you remember, Grimmjow?" Nnoitra yanked his pants down and pushed his knees apart. "Yammy used to join us from time to time. Maybe you were too far gone then…" Nnoitra smiled before his head ducked down between Grimmjow's legs. He felt his breath, then his tongue…

Grimmjow looked away from the big man holding him. His face burned. It wasn't new—but he hadn't been in such a position in a very long time. He grit his teeth when Nnoitra really started in on him, but there was no hiding the way his body quivered and his breaths became short and fast.

That wicked mouth of Nnoitra's was without mercy. He brought Grimmjow to the edge of pleasure and held him there for a long time. Then he gave an order to Yammy and the hand that had been pinning Grimmjow suddenly began to strangle him.

At first, Grimmjow panicked. His body was in turmoil but now he couldn't breathe. His blood pounded hard and fast in his veins. And then Nnoitra picked up his pace down below and Grimmjow experienced something that surpassed the fear of approaching death and took him to a high he'd never before experienced.

Nnoitra wiped his mouth and leaned back, watching Grimmjow collapse in exhaustion. Yammy pulled his hand away, leaving dark bruises from his fingers on Grimmjow's neck.

They cleaned him up, replaced his pants and undid the tape binding his wrists together. He couldn't move much, but rolled onto his side, away from where Nnoitra had decided to lay, grinning at him.

"Come on, now, we all know you enjoyed it."

"Get the fuck out of my house."

"Fine." A hand ghosted down his back, traced over the six tattoo there, but withdrew. However, at the last minute Nnoitra leaned over him again and whisper into his ear.

"I left three more hits, but I'm not telling where. When you want them, you'll find them. And then, when you want more, you'll find me."

He withdrew then. Grimmjow heard them leave, but there wasn't a muscle in his body willing to move from where he lay.

* * *

A hand worked up scratched, bruised flesh. Ichigo flinched, less about the pain, and more because he felt Renji's fingers slow, feeling the wounds Grimmjow had clawed into him.

"Is this from the fight?" he whispered. Ichigo had been shaving in the washroom when Renji limped in and hugged him from behind. The hug had turned into a kiss and then a fondle. Ichigo stepped away, pulling his shirt back down.

"It's nothing."

"Don't lie." Renji made a grab for the bottom of his shirt but Ichigo pushed his hand away.

"I'm not lying, Renji."

"Then why don't you want me to see?"

"Because it's embarrassing," Ichigo covered lamely. "I should have been able to beat that guy no problem."

He and Renji were both pretty tough. Renji had more weight and raw strength but Ichigo's skills were such that the two of them were basically on par. There were few people that could best either of them in a fair fight. But Renji frowned at Ichigo's statement and his face was serious.

"No, Ichigo, you were lucky to get away without being hurt worse. Grimmjow is seriously bad business."

"Then why did you get him involved in all of this?"

"Because I was desperate, Ichigo. Like I said, I'm sorry." He brought his hand up to Ichigo's face, and tried to lean in but Ichigo stayed him with a hand against his chest. "You're pissed."

"I'm sorry."

"I understand. I swear I'm not going to mess up again."

"I know. I just need a little time, okay?"

He could see Renji wanted to argue, but he held it back for his sake. "Yeah, okay."

"Thanks. I'm going to take the couch again for a while."

"It's that bad?"

"Just for a while."

"Shit, Ichigo." But he left it there and he left Ichigo alone in the bathroom. The teen sagged back against the door when it was shut. He lifted his shirt and checked the rate of healing on the wounds. He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up in such a small space, but he was damn well going to try. He just didn't know that as he hid himself in the bathroom, Renji was slipping out the door to confront the man who'd laid these wounds in his flesh.


	4. Chapter 4

Cold water assaulted him. He couldn't see, couldn't breathe, then there were hands on his shoulders, tilting him into space and fingers ripping his hair and acid burning his throat.

The smell of vomit from the waste bin brought more heaves. Grimmjow convulsed several more times before sagging back against the mattress. The hand that had been keeping him from toppling off the bed now pressed against his neck, checking his pulse.

"Shit, Jaggerjaques, what did you take?"

Grimmjow blinked hard, trying to see past the wash of hot tears in his eyes.

He tensed. "Abarai?" Despite his grogginess he pushed himself back on the bed and scanned the room. Renji was alone, he looked unarmed, in fact, he didn't even look angry. Grimmjow squinted, sure he was hallucinating, but Renji remained there before him.

"Yo, what did you get into? Your door was busted in downstairs."

His eyes swept over the mess of Grimmjow. His pants were still unfastened, his torso banged up from two rough nights in a row and now the unmistakeable hand-print bruise at his throat.

"Who did that to you?"

Grimmjow touched his neck and winced. He straightened and planted both feet on the floor.

"Careful," Renji warned.

"Abarai…" he tried again. His voice was hoarse from being strangled. Renji knelt down before him.

"Jaggerjaques, what happened?" Grimmjow's eyes were clouded. Renji was no stranger to the look on his face. "I thought you were Mr. Clean now."

"Fuck you."

"Sorry. Just, what happened?"

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed to slits. He felt the wash of anger all over again and the urge to tell Renji what he'd done to his lover rushed forth. But he reigned it in. Renji could probably kill him while he was in this state, cast and all. Apparently the kid had hidden the truth from Renji. And now here the bastard was, _concerned_ for the man he'd put in this state in the first place.

"What the fuck do you think?" he hissed out.

Renji thought it over. He knew enough of Grimmjow's past to put some pieces together.

"The Numeros?"

"Of course."

"They force you?"

"Just fuck off."

"Fuck…" Renji realized what he'd done by getting Grimmjow involved. "Grimmjow I'm—"

"Get the fuck out of here!" It was a rasp but it was no less threatening. However, when he tried to shove Renji away, he collapsed forward on the floor. His head spun. Nnoitra had hit him with way too much shit. His system was all out of whack and next thing he was puking again.

The morning was a blur of hot and cold, black and white, reality and dreams. Grimmjow travelled from prison to days with the Numeros, to a night he walked away from a fight drenched in blood and laughing his head off, then another night where he held another member while he bled out on a street corner. He remembered sex and pain and utter bliss. He felt the harsh spray of the prison shower and remembered his humiliating first days there. He taste blood and bile and fear.

And then he came too drenched under the cold spray of his own shower.

He tried to tell Renji to turn it off but his voice was too hoarse beneath the spray. His flailing arms must have been good enough because the water did cease, but instead of seeing Renji he saw a pale, tight face and a ring of wild orange hair.

Shit.

"Renji called me in a panic," Ichigo hissed, looking back out into the main room where the other must be. "He thought you were dying and with his arm—" he stopped explaining when he saw Renji returning with a more towels.

"He's awake," Ichigo said, backing away. Grimmjow's eyes were still on the teen. Ichigo's were also glued to him, hostile, angry, but a hint of something else in there…something like the fear Grimmjow had felt back then in prison.

He tore his eyes away and stared at white tile instead. Fuck these two. One had ruined him, the other…he'd ruined. He clasped his head between his hands.

"Come on."

Renji tried to pull him out. Grimmjow refused to move.

"Just leave," he repeated.

"Come on, I know you're pissed at me. I owe you. Let me help."

"You don't owe me, just go."

"Not until you're sober."

"Abarai!"

"Renji." Ichigo intervened. "If he wants us out, maybe we should just go."

"He can't even stand."

"Yes I fucking can." Grimmjow grabbed the side of the tub and tried to pull himself up to prove his point but only ended up proving Renji's. He toppled over the edge and groaned against the tile floor. "Just give me a fucking towel and some dry clothes." He muttered when he realized how bad he was. Renji obliged. They let him try to dress himself on his own.

Grimmjow shivered against the floor but managed this much at least. He needed them out. He didn't want to see either of them ever again.

The door cracked open. When Renji saw he was dressed, he called Ichigo over to help. One on each side, they got him standing and walked him over to the bed. He collapsed on it with a groan.

"Do you know what they gave you?" Renji asked.

"Too much." Was the answer they got from where Grimmjow's face was pressed against the sheets.

"But of what?"

Nothing. Grimmjow was out again. Renji checked his breathing but it seemed he was finally sleeping it off. He sat on the end of the bed with a long sigh and swept back his hair. He only then noticed that Ichigo's gaze was fixed on the bed, his eye far away.

He didn't know what Ichigo was reliving or why he nearly jumped out of his skin when Renji reached out and touched his arm.

"Hey. What's up?"

"N-nothing."

"Seriously, Ichigo, what's wrong?"

"It's just…upsetting. I mean, to see someone like that."

"You won't ever see me like this. I promise Ichigo, never again. But Grimmjow…he told me how bad he was addicted before. He got a lot of flak for it in prison but he never touched shit. All that time he worked to stay clean. And now look what I've done to him."

Ichigo wanted to argue that Grimmjow didn't want them here, that they should go, but he also thought that would look suspicious. So he sat with Renji.

"You never talk about prison."

"I know."

"I didn't even know his name, but he was your cellmate. Why did you never tell me about him? About any of it?"

"Cause I'm ashamed, Ichigo. When I went in, I thought I'd just put in my time and get out, no worries. I'm strong, I'm tough, no one would mess with me. But I didn't realize what it would do to my head. Grimmjow told me it was a bad decision, but I started doping anyway. It made it easier in there. But it's nearly ruined me out here."

"How long was he in there?"

"I don't know. A year before me, but he got released after."

"What was he in for?"

"I never knew. But I think he took the fall for the Numeros. It's why he was able to walk away from them, debts were paid or something. But now he's in shit with them 'cause of me."

"He's in shit with them because of choices he made years ago, before he ever met you, Renji. He's what, late twenties? Who knows what kind of shit he did all that time before prison."

"So what, he doesn't deserve a second chance?"

Ichigo understood the comparison. He took Renji's hand in his own. "I'm not saying that. I'm just saying it was his own choices that put him in this position in the first place. It's not all on you."

"Ichigo I've made some seriously bad choices lately. I just want to do something right for a change."

Ichigo sighed and shut his eyes. And that meant helping this guy? No. If Renji found out the truth, then Ichigo was afraid he'd be going back to prison for murder.

"Maybe we should fix his door for him," he said, wanting off of the bed and away from the man in it.

"Yeah okay."

They undid the damage Yammy and Nnoitra had caused, breaking in one of the garage bay doors. Grimmjow was lucky no one stole anything from him while he was out. Maybe no one dared.

Later, Grimmjow woke up. He was finally able to walk on his own and after downing half a jug of water he demanded that they leave.

Renji seemed to have half a mind to protest but Ichigo drew on his arm and convinced him to leave. He shot Grimmjow one last glance before stepping out into the night, Renji's arm around him.

* * *

In the staff bathroom at the back of the restaurant, Ichigo furiously wiped his cheeks of the thin lines of water he refused to call tears. Very little had escaped him but his cheeks were still blotched, his eyes bloodshot.

This couldn't happen. Not now, not ever. He refused to let Grimmjow Jaggerjaques and that one night haunt him.

He washed up and forced himself out the doors, back to work. He served tables, made tips, and delivered meals with a false smile and cheery grin. At the end of the afternoon he hung up his apron, ran three blocks and ducked into the dojo just before his students arrived. After training two different age groups he helped clean up the equipment, wipe down the mats and then hurried home where he cracked open his laptop and logged into his online course. Very little of the physics sank in and by the time his course ended he was almost asleep on the couch.

When Renji came in he dropped heavily on a kitchen stool. Ichigo joined him and pulled all his tips from his pocket and pooled it together with the extra money Renji got from playing pool after his shift on the dock. He was lucky they'd been able to rotate him into a paper pushing job for the next few weeks instead of his usual work in moving shipments or they'd be out of home.

"Should be enough," Renji lied, knowing the hospital bill was much more than what they were drawing in.

"Listen Renji," Ichigo started carefully, not wanting to insult Renji. "Whatever happens, don't make any rash decisions, okay? If we have to move or if I have to drop my course or—"

"I know, Ichigo. I won't get us into trouble again. But I'll be damned if you drop your education over this."

Calling it an eduction was stretching it. One or two courses was all he could afford both in money and time. Renji had given up on his own higher level education after prison. He didn't want to discourage Ichigo, though.

"I'm done in." Ichigo yawned and headed for the couch. Renji caught his wrist.

"You're really still going to stay out here?"

Ichigo extricated himself slowly. "Yeah."

"Ichigo—"

"Night, Renji."

The other sighed but returned to the bedroom, leaving Ichigo alone. He sagged down on the couch, utterly exhausted but his last thoughts before sleep were still of that closet and his fist in the sheets.

* * *

Grimmjow shut the bay doors. He'd nearly come to blows with the owner of the car he'd had for nearly two days. The man had refused to pay for the shit service. Grimmjow had to let him walk away or risk breaking his neck in a fist fight. He locked everything up tight, even though it was only noon. He wasn't looking for anymore customers. He wasn't looking for anything, because he'd already found it.

Nnoitra had sealed it in a plastic bag and tucked it one of his toolboxes. He'd found it this morning without even looking. And there is sat, staring at, _screaming_ at him.

He almost threw it out—almost. But once it was in his hands, he couldn't seem to let it go.

He sank down on the stool at his work bench. He flicked on the light and peered through magnified glass at the contents of the syringe. It was the same colour, same amount as what he used to take with Nnoitra. It was definitely a smaller hit than what he'd given him the day before. This was what he'd used to live on. It had been his upper, his downer, his nutrition, his breath. For years he'd injected it like a diabetic doses insulin.

He set it down on the bench and grabbed a hammer. He needed to get rid of it. He needed to rid himself of the temptation.

But he just held the tool against his chest, and continued to stare. It had taken prison walls to force him to stop last time. He hadn't had the will then and he didn't think he had the will now.

No. He stood up and paced away. He hadn't had a reason to want off back then. He did now. That fucker Nnoitra thought he'd come crawling back to him. Well fuck him. Fuck them all.

The hammer came down. Glass broke, the off-white contents of the syringe drained over the work bench and the floor.

Grimmjow's stomach clenched as he watched it slip away. He instantly felt regret instead of relief. His heart thrummed. He threw the hammer, smashing the light and knocking tools everywhere.

"Fuck him," he breathed aloud. "You won't win."


	5. Chapter 5

Ichigo unwrapped his sandwich and sat at the park bench. It was his lunch but now evening was setting in. This was the first chance he'd had to relax. He checked his watch. He only had ten minutes before he had to be at the dojo. He scarfed down his food and checked his cell for messages. Renji had picked up someone else's shift and wouldn't be home until late. That meant more money. It also meant he could avoid the argument about sleeping together again. The marks from Grimmjow were almost gone, but Ichigo still didn't know how he could sleep with Renji after that.

He'd done it for him, and yet he felt like he'd betrayed him.

He pocketed his phone and just caught sight of the man on the edge of the park, leaning against a post. There was nothing particularly suspicious about him, except that he snapped his head in a different direction when Ichigo looked at him—as if he'd been caught watching him.

It gave Ichigo the creeps. He decided to leave the park from the other end. He cut down several streets, arrived at the dojo and forgot about the watcher in the park.

The watcher did not forget about him.

* * *

The second one had been stashed with his cigarettes. They were illegal imports so he kept them tucked behind automotive books on the shelf by his big sceen. He held the baggie, containing the same contents as the last. Nnoitra hadn't made them hard to find. He'd wanted him to find them easily, to be tempted over and over.

Grimmjow stuffed the cigarettes in his pocket but took the baggie down to the garage again. He held it out from his body like it was toxic and could infect him from a distance. He lay it in the same place he'd disposed of the other. The only problem was, he'd thrown his hammer and now he didn't know where it was.

He starting picking through the mess he'd made earlier. Then he started cleaning things up. He knew in the back of his mind he was just putting off what he had to do. He knew very well he was still contemplating taking it. And when he finally extricated his hammer from the mess and sorted the tools and equipment that had fallen, he turned back to the baggie and syringe.

That's when he heard banging on the garage door.

Shit. He kept the hammer in hand but left the work bench and peered through the peephole to the outside.

He backed away at once.

"Jaggerjaques, please!" He heard the yell, could still see that sweatplastered face as if he could see though the door itself. Ichigo Kurosaki. The kid he just wanted to forget.

He shook his head. "Get the fuck out of here."

"Sinclair's men…"

Sinclair? That was who Renji had ripped off. He looked through the peephole again. Ichigo was panting, holding the nob for support, a hand wrapped around his ribcage. He was all roughed up. He was running from them, wasn't he? Shit.

"Not my fucking prolem!" He shouted through the door.

"You bastard. After what you did—"

Grimmjow grabbed the door and hauled it open. Ichigo stumbled from the loss of support and fell against Grimmjow but he shoved him off and the teen toppled onto the sidewalk.

"Don't you fucking dare! You deserved it! Renji deserved it!"

Pain creased the young man's face. It didn't seem to have anything to do with the marks on his body. And when he looked up at Grimmjow, even though he was trying to be tough and hold it together, there was that same trace of fear in him.

"Fuck you!" Grimmjow kicked Ichigo's ankle, trying to compel him to get away from his front step. "Get away from here!"

"It's too late." Ichigo's voice was calm now, full of resignation and he looked down the street. Grimmjow saw them now too. There were three of them, burly men in suits. "They grabbed me in the park, tried to force me into this Laundromat…"

Grimmjow knew all about the Laundromat Sinclair owned to front his business. He knew it was seven blocks from here and that in the back was a windowless, sound proof room where they probably would have fucked around with Ichigo until he was dead and then sent Renji the gruesome photos. Or they would just slit his throat then do the same to Abarai.

"Did they get Abarai too?" he asked.

"I don't know." Ichigo stood up. He was winded and Grimmjow now saw the blood at the base of his neck. They'd probably knocked him out when they'd grabbed him. It was really impressive that that kid had managed to escape them and get this far.

"I take it they found out about the car and the coke."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Sucks to be you."

Ichigo shot him a look of utter rage and disdain. He was disgusted by the mechanic. He was repulsed by what a terrible human being he was.

Sometimes, Grimmjow was too.

"Jaggerjaques!" They yelled when they saw him. Grimmjow was well known in these parts. Everyone knew his history with the Numeros and respected that he was no one to mess with. For the past few months, he'd had a grudgingly friendly relationship with Sinclair, allowing a few exchanges to take place through the garage for a minimal fee. He relaxed his stance now, and gave them a lazy wave.

"What's up boys?"

"You know this fuck?" They asked him, pointing to Ichigo who remained on the defensive.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yes. The boss ordered him brought in. What's he to you?"

"I fucked him a couple nights ago." Ichigo's face drained of all colour and he turned wide eyes to stare at Grimmjow. He continued on casually. "What the hell do you want with him?"

"None of your damn businesses."

"Actually boys, it is if his body is gonna end up floating in the harbour."

"Why? You like him?"

"He was a good fuck but it's not like that. Got my bite marks in his shoulder, see. Can't have that evidence tying me back to a fucking floater."

"Well that's your problem."

"You're right." Grimmjow twirled the hammer in his hand dangerously. "It is."

One man reached for a gun. The hammer flew straight into his chest. The fight was on.

Ichigo slammed into brick. When the men had grabbed him, they'd rammed him with the car. His ribs and hip were killing him. He was having trouble keeping upright let alone holding his own in the fight. But he twisted the arm that came his way and the man screamed when he applied pressure. He saw Grimmjow knee another man in the gut then slam his fist across his face. He collapsed next to the one with the hammer on his chest. Grimmjow retrieved his tool, then stepped over them to Ichigo's man. He smashed his knuckles into his jaw as well. The three would be mobile again shortly, but it gave Grimmjow and Ichigo a moment to collect themselves.

"What the Hell?" Ichigo breathed. "I thought you weren't gonna help me."

"I didn't help you. It's true. I don't want ties to your dead body."

"You didn't bite me."

"You want your ass saved or not kid?" Grimmjow grabbed his arm and threw him inside the shop. "Just stay here."

"Where are you going?"

"To stop my ass getting murdered, and if you're luck lucky, yours too."

The door thundered shut behind him.

* * *

Grimmjow arrived with the three at Sinclair's seven blocks down. They's stumbled after him, afraid he was about to do in their boss, but there was no chance of that, since every underling that worked for the drug dealer seemed to be in the laundramat's back room. One of the guys must have called ahead, because Sinclair himself was waiting at the store front, apparently up to date on the situation.

"What the fuck, Jaggerjaques?"

"My question exactly. Why the hell are you after the kid?"

"None of your business."

"Like I said to your boys, I fucked him and left marks in him. They're too fresh for his body to turn up and me get tied back to it, understand?"

Unlike his men, Sinclair did understand this.

"Then we'll burn him."

"Fine. But I want a garuntee. I want see it for myself. I ain't going back inside for shit I didn't do."

"Okay. Then go get him."

"I will. But I also want to know what the fuck he did to burn for."

Sinclair sighed. He nodded to his men to go in. Then he extended the invitation to Grimmjow.

The mechanic didn't want to go in. Going in meant putting himself at this man's mercy and he was already playing a dangerous enough game as it was. But there was little choice if he was going to settle this. He stepped in and followed him to the back room.

He'd been here once before, while first hammering out a deal with Sinclair about what lines not to cross and so on. Grimmjow had been new to the neighborhood at the time. Sinclair had meant to intimidate him. He'd failed. Now though, as Grimmjow's eyes traced over the thick black foam on the walls mean to supress screams, he felt the slightest hint of nervousness.

He was about to lie his ass off and he hoped to Hell it paid off.

"He stole something of mine."

"What?" Grimmjow pressed.

"About 10 million yen worth of cocaine."

Grimmjow cocked an eye. "Really? He doesn't seem the type."

"Well it was him or his partner, Renji Abarai."

"Ha," Grimmjow barked out a laugh. "That shithead? Damn, I didn't know he was on the drug scene."

"You know him too?"

"We were in the slammer together. He owed me for stuff in there—gave me a sweet night with that kid back there. Now they got me all caught up this shit," he grumbled. "So how the fuck did an asswipe like Abarai pull this off?"

"He stole our fucking Caddie once it was all loaded up."

Now Grimmjow plastered his best shocked expression on his face. To add to it, he leaned back on a table a bit as if he'd actually lost his balance. Sinclair watched him closely.

"What?"

"Don't tell me it was a beige Caddie. Smashed up on the left side?"

Sinclair's face tightened. "How did you kow?"

"Cause one came in three days ago. I patched the fucking thing up."

Sinclair's eyes turned to fire. He grabbed Grimmjow by the coat front and tried to shake him. He _tried,_ because he was a small man, and he probably couldn't move Grimmjow from the spot if his life depended on it. But he had all the muscle he needed in the men around him so Grimmjow would never take him lightly.

"You what?"

"I didn't fucking know it was yours."

"But fucking Abarai brought it to you right?"

"No. It was the Numeros."

Sinclair released him at once. His eyes shot low, to where Grimmjow had once shown him his tattoo, branding him into the Numeros gang.

"You're with them again?"

"Hardly. But I can't really refuse Aizen's men if they show up on my door, you know."

Sinclair steamed. His men read his rage and tensed. Grimmjow remained calm before him, watching him pace and stroked his chin and lean back his head and sore to the ceiling.

"What the fuck were Numeros doing in this end of town? What the Hell are they playing at?"

"That's what they fucking do. They mess with everyone else's shit for a fucking laugh."

Sinclair finally let out a breath and returned his gaze to Grimmjow.

"You were part of it then."

"I didn't fucking know."

"And you're saying Abarai and Kurosaki got shit to do with this?"

"Not nothing. My ex back in the gang probably set them up to take the fall once he got wind I was fucking Kurosaki."

"Dammit." Sinclair smashed a glass from the table. Grimmjow knew he'd succeeded in convincing him of the lie. "They fucked around with me. Made me look like a fool. Sent me after the wrong assholes. And the whole time it was you."

"Not me, _them."_

"Jaggerjaques, when you came to this neighborhood, you swore the Numeros would not be a problem."

"I can't fucking control them."

"Well I'm afraid you've cost my business big time."

"Take it out on the assholes who lost that car in the first place, Sinclair."

"Oh, I have. But what if word gets out of your involvement, and I just let you go, Scott free, living under ten fucking blocks away."

"That's your call, asshole. We had a sweet deal going, if you wanna mess that up, then that's on you."

Sinclair's shoulders relaxed slightly. He nodded slowly, looking Grimmjow up and donw. "You're right. All in all, you have been a prospersou addition to the community. It would be a shame for our business relations to suffer." He thought this over a moment, then snapped his fingers. Grimmjow tensed as two men flanked him, grabbing his arms and straightening them at his back.

"Sinclair," he wanred.

"I would like out business arrangement to continue," Sinclair concluded. "But I don't want anymore shit with the Numeros. I want it made clear you're done with them, and so am I."

"Fine, how do we do that?"

Another nod. Grimmjow's knee was kicked out and he was forced to the ground while his coat and then shirt were pulled from him. Sinclair stood over him, eyeing the six on his back.

"We erase your link to them."

* * *

Ichigo waited at the door for over an hour. He clutched his phone to his chest. Renji had only just answered after an hour of calling. He hadn't even known anything was wrong. No one had come for him yet. Ichigo refused to tell him where he was. He knew if Grimmjow failed, they'd be coming to kill him, and then they'd only get Renji too. Renji had screamed at him to tell him, but he'd hung up. Now he stood in the garage, waiting.

He'd found Grimmjow's gun easily enough. He held it in his other hand. He watched the door.

The door rattled. He jumped in start then moved cautiously too it. After another sharp knock, he leaned into the peep hole and looked out.

It was Grimmjow.

He opened the door at once. Grimmjow remained where he was, leaning against the doorframe. He was white as a ghost and covered in sweat.

"What happened?" Ichigo asked, scanning him for obvious injury. He saw nothing on his front, just a few scrapes on his face.

"Nothin'." He took hold of the doorhandle to steady himself. "You should go."

"But Sinclair—"

"It's settled. He bought my story about it being Numeros and not you assholes. You're in the clear."

Ichigo shook his head in disbelief. "You serious? But how? And why. I mean you fucking hate us so—"

"I was covering my own ass…the two of you have been in and out of here lately…an' I probably really did mark you when I fucked you. Too much potential shit could land on me if you ended up dead…"

"No way. It's more than that."

"Whatver, kid, just go."

He pushed off from the door and stepped inside. He made it another step before his knee gave. Ichigo stepped into him, trying to take his weight. His hand closed tight over his back.

Grimmjow screamed.

Ichigo at once felt the sooping wet fabric. It soaked his hand in seconds, blood and clear liquid shimmered on his hand when he drew it back. Grimmjow's fingers clawed into Ichigo as he held him back. His voice cracked with another scream when they fell off balance and landed on their knees.

"Fuck, Jaggerjaques are you shot?" he asked, trying to hold the man while peeling off his coat. When it fell away, he saw that his whole shirt was red, but it was close to the center where the fabric stuck tight to a wound.

Ichigo checked Grimmjow's front again. He saw no exit wound. Either a bullet was still in him, or this was not from a gunshot.

"Here, lay down." He slowly released Grimmjow and the other had no choice as he fell forward on his hands. He was gasping, his sweat dripping from his hair and forehead. Ichigo could see deep bruises around his arms where he'd been held down. He was starting to feel sick at what he might find beneath the shirt.

"All the way." Ichigo whispered and Grimmjow complied, wether consciously or not, as he sank against the cold cement of the garage floor.

Ichigo took the edge of his shirt and let out a long, slow breath. Then he ripped the fabric from the wound.

Grimmjow's scream echoed off the walls of the garage. Ichigo fell back, covering his mouth with one hand and trying not to heave his guts at what he saw.

* * *

Far across town, in an upscale apartment, a wicked man with a wicked grin finished jerking off in a porcelain bowl. He flushed and washed and flopped back on his bed, ready for the next round of pay-per-view fetish indugence. But his fun was interrupted when he saw the text on his screen.

He shut the t.v. off. His feet planted on the floor. He called Yammy back.

"What happened to him?"

"Whoa, calm down, Nnoitra, I just heard the rumour and thought you'd wanna know about your boyfriend."

"I do. So spill."

"Well it was in the text."

"Who the fuck is this Sinclair guy?"

"Just a dealer who lives close to Jaggerjaques."

"And how the fuck did he remove his Numeros tattoo?"

"Well I don't know what's true or not…but rumours are he was nasty about it."

Nnoitra stood now. "Just spit it out."

"Well, word on the street is, they used a fucking blow torch."


	6. Chapter 6

Ichigo's hands shook as he washed them of the blood. He's never seen burns like that. He knew Grimmjow couldn't even feel the worst of the damage because his nerves were fried. But he felt enough to be puking from the pain and barely holding back tears.

Why wouldn't he just pass out? Ichigo thought. It would have been a mercy to them both.

Now he heard Jaggerjaques dry heaving. His clenching muscles was enough to bring more agony and there was an edge of a sob in his next cry of pain. Ichigo dried his hands and returned to the kitchen.

Grimmjow was on the floor. They had been able to get him up from the garage but no farther. The best Ichigo could do for him was put a pillow under his head, but it had actually made it a bit easier to clean and protect the wound like this. He'd found guaze and used the internet to figure out just what to do. Grimmjow had repeatedly told him he couldn't go to the hospital.

"Kurosaki," Grimmjow breathed hoarsely. Ichigo knelt next to him. "On my work bench."

"What?"

"A syringe…"

"Jaggerjaques no."

"I'm fucking dying, just give it to me."

"Grimmjow—"

"Kurosaki, please…" He was so desperate. Ichigo bit his lip and looked back out toward the garage. He supposed he could go see what it was Grimmjow wanted.

The syringe was small, the dose not very big, but that didn't mean anything since Ichigo couldn't tell what was inside.

"What is it?"

"Just give it here." He stetched out a hand. "Kid."

He trembled in pain. Ichigo had nothing to offer him. He needed morphine. He also needed fluids and antibiotics and a real doctor to look at his back. But apparently none of these were viable options. He twirled the syringe another moment and in that moment Grimmjow's body lurched and spasms wracked him as he dry heaved once more. He bent his head against the hardwood and choked on the pain.

"Just fucking give it to me!" He screamed between sobs of agony.

Ichigo did. He couldn't stand it either and before he could give it much thought it stuck it into wrists where the veins were easy to see. Grimmjow sagged in relief, his arms wrapping around the pillow that covered his face.

He was still for a long time. Ichigo feared he'd killed him, but then he rolled his head to one side and took some calming breaths.

"You should try to rest." Ichigo encouraged.

Grimmjow didn't respond, but it didn't take long for him to pass out after that.

Ichigo withdrew his phone again. He texted Renji the details and then sank on the kitchen chair.

* * *

"Fuck, Ichigo." Renji rolled Ichigo's pants down slowly, careful to avoid the deep bruising that was revealed.

"They rammed me."

"With their car?"

"…yeah."

"Oh gods." He let Ichigo's pants pool at his feet in Grimmjow's bathroom. Then he leaned in and pressed Ichigo's face to his chest. "I can't believe they did this to you."

"I'm okay." He lied, but it came out automatic. It was sometime in the early hours of the morning. His body was spent. His mind numb. In the other room Grimmjow slept on where Renji had helped deposit him back on his bed.

"Stop, Ichigo. It's okay. All this shit that's happened lately—you don't have to pretend it's olay."

"I know." Ichigo withdrew. He bent to pick his pants back up but winced and Renji caught his arm.

"Just take it easy." He pulled Ichigo's hand away from his side and then began to pull up his shirt.

"Renji—"

"Ichigo you're a mess." He hauled it up higher, despite Ichigo's protest, seeing the terrible bruises all up his side.

"Renji please."

"No, Ichigo, we have to take care of all this."

"Just stop."

But it was too late. His shirt was all the way off. Renji had him, nearly naked, in the cold light of Grimmjow's bathroom. At first, he saw nothing but the marks from tonight. He traced lightly over bruises and inspected a cut. Then he held him close, his plaster cast chafing Ichigo's bare skin.

Ichigo felt it in him. All he could see was Renji's red hair and his black t-shirt. But he felt his muscles tighten, then the fingers wander down the still healing lines on his back.

Slowly, Renji withdrew. He turned Ichigo around and pushed him forward so that he had to catch the side of the sink. He let himself be examined. He didn't have the energy to lie anymore.

Renji's hands worked all down his back, tracing the scratches, seeing the bruises that were green and yellow, not from tonight. They were fingerprint sized, all around his hips and his arms. Ichigo gasped when his shorts were hauled down. He felt the anger boiling off of Renji. He didn't say a thing when he pushed his fingers deep but the way Ichigo reacted told him everything. Even three days later he was sensitive, sore. Renji pulled back his hand. He let Ichigo pull his boxers back up but that was all before he gripped him by both shoulders.

"This is why you haven't wanted to be with me? You're fucking around with someone else?"

"Renji—"

"Dammit Ichigo! I know I messed up. I know things have been shit. But how the Hell could you do this? You couldn't wait a damn minute after I screwed up to go screw another guy. Who was it?"

"Re—"

"WHO WAS IT?!"

Ichigo didn't flinch in the face of the scream. He just stared at Renji, and like slow motion, the truth struck him. Like a punctured balloon, he deflated, fell away, staggered this way and that, lost, then fell limp against the side of the tub. He stared up at Ichigo, defeated and broken. His hands shook as he covered his mouth.

"It was him…"

Ichigo shut his eyes.

"That's why he said the debt was off. He already made you pay up."

"He was high. I should have gotten away from him. It probably wouldn't have happened when he was sober."

"Don't…don't make excuses from him. He's evil, Ichigo. I always knew that."

"He saved me tonight."

"It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. He's a demon and no matter what he says he never changes. And now look what he's done. He fucking raped you 'cause of me."

"Renji," Ichigo tried to stay him when he stood. "We made a deal. It wasn't...technically he didn't force me."

"_Technically_? TECHNICALLY?"

"Renji!" The bathroom door smashed open. Ichigo ran out after him in his underwear. Grimmjow was awake again. Maybe he'd come too from all the screaming. He looked confused, but then when he saw the anger in Renji, he seemed to make sense of the situation.

"RENJI NO!"

Renji had a hand around Grimmjow's neck. Ichigo couldn't stop him before he hauled him back and flipped him off the bed.

Ichigo lost sight of Grimmjow when Renji drove a fist down on him but he definitely heard his terrible scream.

"Renji!"

The red head drew Grimmjow up just to slam him back down. There was no scream this time. Grimmjow was in utter agony and his body tensed up too much for him to get out a breath. Then Ichigo reached them. He tried shoving Renji off. When that didn't work, he slammed his fist into his jaw. When Renji lost his balance Ichigo threw his weight on him and pinned him, back to the floor.

"Renji leave him alone." He panted from above.

"Get off, Ichigo. He deserves it."

"_He _deserves it. Renji you've got no fucking idea what happened tonight. _Why _it happened!"

"Why are you defending him?"

"Because it's not his fault, it's yours!"

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me, Renji. You're the one who fucked up. You're the one who put me in that situation to begin with!"

The scream left Ichigo before he could take the words back. Renji stilled beneath him, once again the deflated balloon.

"Get off of me," he whispered.

"Renji…"

"Just get off."

He shoved Ichigo back. He fell away willingly, sitting back on his heels as Renji righted himself.

"You're right." He admitted. "I know you are. And I know I can never make up for it. But he still did that to you. He still deserves—"

"Stop." Ichigo stood now too. "Just stop, Renji."

"Fine. Then we're leaving."

"You can go."

"And what? You're going to stay? Stay here with the man who—" Renji stopped talking. He was staring at the floor. Ichigo turned now too, to see the man forgotten there. He was on his back, his whole body trembling, but in his right hand he held out a semi-automatic that had been tucked under the bed springs. It was aimed straight at Renji's heart.

"Get the fuck out." Grimmjow gave a wave with the gun and tilted the barrel in Ichigi's direction. "Both of you."

"You need help, Jaggerjaques," Ichigo protested.

"Not from you cunts."

His finger tightened on the trigger. Ichigo took a step back, knowing he was high. Renji caught his arm.

"We're going."

"Abarai," Grimmjow growled from the ground. "Next time I see you, I'm gonna kill you."

There was nothing left to say. They backed down the staircase and hit the street. As they made their way out into the day, they saw a glow some distance down the street and heard the whir of sirens.

"Something's on fire," Renji whispered.

Ichigo knew that something was a laundramat.

* * *

Nnoitra Gilga sauntered away from the scene of devastation behind him. Ashes fluttered in the dawn air. Someone locked inside with burning chemicals and boiling detergent still screamed. He smiled.

No one touched the Numeros without consequence. In this case, the consequence was total annihilation—carried out single handedly. That added humiliation had brought Nnoitra much satisfaction as he'd ended Sinclair. Using the blowtorch had been his crowning touch. Unfortunately, there was no one left alive to share the memory. Oh well, this was cleaner.

Several blocks down he stopped at the doors of the garage. He'd taken a key last time, and let himself in without having to damage anything.

He shut the door lightly and made way his way through the garage where he could smell the blood and vomit. He frowned at the messy stain and Grimmjow's torn shirt. He hurried a little, getting up the step to the apartment that was streaked here and there with more crimson. More blood and vomit in the kitchen. A discarded laptop and medical kit. He looked around for signs of Grimmjow.

Then he looked up the stairs.

He went slowly. He could practically taste the danger of a wounded animal lurking in wait.

"Grimmjow." He called before his head crested the top step. "I ghosted the bastards who did this to you."

There was a long pause. Then, "Nnoitra…?"

The voice was dripping with pain. Nnoitra's hand tightened over the rail. "I'm coming up. Don't fucking shoot me."

He'd been right to take caution. Grimmjow was leaned back against his bed, his arms crossed in front of him, but propped in his lap he held his gun. It had been pointed straight at the top of the stairs. Now though, it dropped limp in his lap. His body shook beyond his control and for the first time in years he didn't tell Nnoitra to go away.

"Happy to see me?" Nnoitra teased as he knelt before him. Grimmjow didn't answer, he couldn't. He was overwhelmed and his voice broke, his eyes watered.

Nnoitra leaned in and pulled him forward.

"Shhh. I got you. Just tell me you want my help and I'll give it to you."

There were gasping breaths into his chest. Fingers tightened desperately around his arms. Nnoitra smiled.

"Good enough. Don't worry Grimmjow, when I'm done, you'll be good as new."


	7. Chapter 7

**Three weeks later.**

Nnoitra creaked up three flights of stairs. A drunk snored along the steps. He gave him a kick on the way by. The man started to shout, saw the dangerous glare, and recognized his sharp visage. He quieted. At the top flight, Nnoitra felt the ripple of heat from the poorly insulated building. All the heat gathered up here. He stripped his jacket and moved down the hall to the room at the end. Mandarin numbers marked the door. The old man who owned the place was an illegal immigrant. No one ever reported him though, because his services were too valuable to the underbelly of society.

A waft of sour smoke greeted him when he opened the door. The ceiling fan whirred on high, stirring the scent of marijuana and washing it over everything. In one corner an IV rack stood, lonely and empty. They'd been able to unhook it from the patient a few days ago. The window was open, sucking in cleaner air. It was the only bright point in the dark den that had been home to the patient since Nnoitra dragged him here.

"That doctor's orders?" Nnoitra dropped his plastic bag of groceries by the door and moved over to the bed.

"Who the fuck cares?" Grimmjow grumbled, sucking back on his joint. "Good fucking painkiller."

He lay on his stomach, body bare save a pair of boxers. Bandages wrapped around his torso, securing the ones around his back. His thigh, as well, was tightly wrapped, protecting the place where skin had been donated to his back.

Nnoitra sat on the edge now and began peeling back the bandages along his spine. Grimmjow stilled, holding his joint and waiting while Nniotra completed his inspection of the wound.

"Looks good. Not going to be too ugly after all," he concluded. Scarring seemed to be his main concern. Pain, had been Grimmjow's. He'd been through a lot of shit in the past few years, but nothing equaled that of his flesh melting under a blowtorch or his nerves attempting to repair themselves in the aftermath.

"I thought you couldn't come today?"

"I couldn't come yesterday," Nnoitra corrected. He had straightened Grimmjow's bandages and now he brushed back sweaty hair from his face. "Do you even remember yesterday?"

Grimmjow shrugged. He finished his smoke. Nnoitra sighed and reached in the drawer.

"You wanna stronger painkiller?" He didn't wait for an answer. There hadn't been a protest to that question in two weeks. Grimmjow let his hand be taken. He watched from where he lay as Nnoitra position the needle between his knuckles and struck the vein.

"Better?" Nnoitra smiled as Grimmjow relaxed on the bed. The tension left his muscles. The pain faded from his features. Nnoitra gave it a moment, to make sure it had really taken hold, before he began to remove his shirt.

Most was a blur to Grimmjow. He couldn't move much, despite all the time since the injury. His flesh needed time to heal, especially since he'd had to donate some from his thigh to his back. The chance for infection had been high, but he'd made it past the worst part. That was why Nnoitra hadn't touched him for so long.

Now though, he leaned in and helped Grimmjow flip over. He still didn't dare put pressure on his back so he sat up and Nnoitra supported his shoulders and they tasted one another, felt one another. Grimmjow was compliant, lax. There was little left in his cerebral cortex uninhibited by the drugs to resist anything Nnoitra presented to him. So they tangled and twisted and Nnoitra kissed him and promised him and eventually settled back for the satisfaction he fully believed he deserved. He took any and every pleasure Grimmjow would give him then held his weakened body against his own and savoured the taste and smell of something he thought he'd never experience again.

Grimmjow let Nnoitra continue to hold, touch and taste. He curled against the pillow and shut his eyes. He tried to forget whatever part of himself had ever decided to leave Nnoitra, the Numeros and the drugs. He let the heat and breeze and high of the drugs lull him back into blissful oblivion, the wicked gangster's heartbeat ever thrumming into his flesh.

* * *

"Ichigo, come out here." Renji's fist bounced off wood. Ichigo felt the bathroom door shudder under the blow. "Seriously, Ichigo, what's up?"

_What's up?_ Ichigo sank to the floor. Renji had to know. He had to understand that every day that passed Ichigo knew his future did not lie with his best and oldest friend. He had to know why Ichigo only ever slept on the couch or shrugged away from touches. He couldn't blame Renji for being a little worried when he'd suddenly shoved his roommate away and locked himself in the bathroom. But Renji didn't know that today Ichigo had gone to the garage, had banged on the door and had convinced himself that Grimmjow Jaggerjaques was dead and it was their fault. Just like the deaths of the eleven burnt corpses as Sinclair's Laundromat had been on their heads.

"I'm fine," he tried to yell but it came out as a whisper for only the porcelain and the plaster to hear. He bowed his head into his knees, remembering the night he was grabbed, the terrible cold eyes of the mechanic when he'd seemed unwilling to help, and then his face after—that pain and pallor. The sight and smell of that terrible burn…

"Don't you care?" He wanted to ask, but he knew the answer. Nothing in this universe would be enough to allow Renji to forgive Grimmjow. Renji could never understand why Ichigo could feel anything but hatred for the man.

He'd run ever scenario he could fathom. He'd contemplated every alternative. He understood Grimmjow's reasoning, but he didn't believe for a second that Grimmjow had acted on purely selfish means that night. He couldn't possibly have gone to such lengths to avoid a potential inconvenience. He had to have felt some modicum of guilt about what he'd done to Ichigo, or loyalty to Renji, or maybe a mixture of both.

Ichigo heard fabric slide past wood. Renji had sat back against the door too now.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

Ichigo started to say no but then he stopped himself. The real answer was _yes_, overwhelmingly yes. Yes, their apartment was far too small for two such people when not getting along. Yes, he missed sleeping in a bed. Yes, sometimes he got tired of making excuses for Renji's failures.

But he didn't say that either. They couldn't afford it. And besides, they had been struggling along together for so long, what else would they do?

"No," he said through the door.

He thought he could hear a sigh of relief.

"Oh…good."

"Can we just be friends again, for now?"

"Yeah, if that's what you want."

"It is."

"Okay."

"Okay." Ichigo stood up. "I'm opening the door."

Renji stood too. When the door was no longer separating them, they faced one another on the threshold, the same half guilty, half sad expressions on their faces as when they'd been kids and had a fight, or gotten into trouble with Urahara.

Ichigo wanted to go home. He suddenly felt gripped by longing for the old creaky boards in the backroom, stuffing his face with candy in storage, even working his ass off stacking goods on shelves or dusting or sweeping. He wished he could go back—not just to that place, but that time, before Renji had ever gone away, gotten addicted to drugs. Before they'd become criminals, he'd slept with another man who somehow managed to kill eleven other people on their behalf.

Ichigo sank into Renji's arms without realizing. He just wanted them to say like this forever, as one, solid unit like they had always been. But that bond was fractured now, and he just didn't know if it could ever be repaired.

* * *

In the hot room of the Chinese doctor's house, Grimmjow also dreamt of the past. His drug induced dreams had carried him back years, when he'd been just a kid, when he'd just started running with the Numeros.

He was fifteen when he first had sex for money. Well, it was actually for drugs which he turned around and made a mint on. At first he'd found it surprisingly easy. The guy he did business with was old and really just wanted a good blow job. Then one night it was new man who'd come to make the trade.

It was after that experience that Nnoitra met him. He found him in the back of the club where Grimmjow did his business. He'd been crying—one of the only times in his life. He'd dropped his coat in the dirt and the package inside was open for all to see. Nnoitra had bent down, picked it up and passed it back to Grimmjow.

He understood the situation in one go.

"Going solo is rough, kid." He took his chin and tilted it up. He examined the bruises down Grimmjow's face, the bite marks on his neck. His arms were likewise covered in bruises. "Very rough, apparently."

"Get off," Grimmjow had barked out. He collected himself then, put his coat back on and walked away.

"Let me know if you wanna get out of the solo gig sometime," Nnoitra had yelled.

Grimmjow did not return to that club. He was not going to do that to himself again. The people who had been dealing with him, however, weren't pleased when he stopped showing up. He'd barely survived the night they found him on the streets and decided to teach him how unprofessional he'd been. They, however, did not survive his retribution.

It hadn't been easy cleaning up that mess. But he did it, because he was a survivor. The police never caught him, but rumour did, and it spread around about what he'd done.

Nnoitra came to visit him again, when he was sixteen. Grimmjow had business left and right at this point. He had undercut a lot of crews and was making a mint on what he brought in and sold out again. One of those, groups, happened to be the Numeros.

So Nniotra put a bullet through his shoulder and dragged him back to a warehouse where Grimmjow expected to be killed.

They beat shit out of him instead. He woke up in a hospital two weeks later.

Nnoitra came to visit when his jaw was unwired and he was able to talk again. He said his medical bills had been paid for, and that a car would be waiting the day he was released.

It was. Nnoitra was not inside. He didn't see the tall, slender man again for several weeks. Instead he met the man named Aizen, was given the run-down of what it meant to be a Numeros and put through a gruelling probationary period of six months. He did a lot of shit in those six months that made him into the perfect candidate for their gang. When his trial period was up, Nnoitra was there. He was apparently the tattoo artist in the bunch. He put the six on Grimmjow's back, then gave him a celebratory shot of his own, personal mixture that many of the Numeros took.

That was Grimmjow's first night on the drug. A few days later, Nnoitra gave him some more. When Grimmjow started asking for it, Nnoitra warned him there was a price.

So Grimmjow was seventeen when he went back to having sex for drugs.

That was his life for five years. He kicked ass and broke bones practically on a daily basis. Then he'd succumb to the high and Nnoitra's desires at night. It wasn't bad. Nnoitra liked to experiment, but let Grimmjow take control, let him feel like it was his choice and Nnoitra was his to use and devour instead of the other way around. It was a lie he embraced for years.

One such night melded with the present. Grimmjow wasn't sure if he was still dreaming or not when hands ran down his torso and tugged at his boxers. But when his own hands found his partner fully clothed and began to remove those clothes, he was stopped and shaken back to consciousness.

"Not right now," Nnoitra smiled and Grimmjow realized his own pants had been put back on. Nnoitra was attempting to get him dressed. "Time to go home."

Grimmjow let him go. The room was a haze to him. He was too high to think straight but the thought did cross his mind as to what Nnoitra meant when he said _home._ There was a reason he hadn't taken Grimmjow back to the Numeros already. It wasn't his place. Aizen would have to welcome Grimmjow back, and before that happened, Grimmjow himself would have to go crawling, begging, to be taken back.

He may have fallen off the wagon, but he had no intention of taking things that far.

"Don't worry." Nnoitra must have seen it on his face. "We're going back to your place."

Nnoitra handed over a giant bundle of cash to the doctor. Then he took Grimmjow's hand and plunked him down on the back of a motorcycle.

He clung to Nniotra. The road blurred past him. Next thing they were in his garage. There was still a blood stain on the floor. It was just like the night Nnoitra had come for him. He staggered, still not used to being vertical, but dragged a box of tools from a shelf.

"What are you doing?" Nnoitra asked, his hand snaking around Grimmjow's waist.

"Here." He pulled out an envelope of cash.

"What's this?"

"For the doc. Take it."

"My treat."

"No, take it. I don't wanna owe you."

Nnoitra wasn't pleased, but he pocketed it. "You sure you can afford it?"

"I'll be fine."

"You know this doesn't settle it though, right?"

Grimmjow nodded. "I know."

"Good." He drew something out of his pocket and set in on the workbench. "For the pain." Grimmjow eyed the syringes. He picked them up and put them into the tool box from which he'd taken the cash. When it was replaced, he turned in Nnoitra's hold and met that wicked grin.

Later, they lay in bed, Grimmjow back on his stomach, half asleep as Nnoitra traced patters over his bare back with one, long finger.

"You remember all your instructions?" he asked.

"Mmhmm," Grimmjow answered.

"Good, 'cause otherwise you're be left with a nasty scar." He would be scarred either way, there was no getting around that, but hopefully with the graph, it would be a much smoother, less noticeable one.

"When you commin' back?" Grimmjow asked when Nnoitra rolled away and began to dress.

"When you need more dope." He moved around the edge of the bed. "Or I get horny." He dangled a key before Grimmjow. "I'll just hang onto this."

There was no arguing with him. Grimmjow knew the cash he'd given Nnoitra would never satisfy the Numeros member. He'd be collecting on his debt for a long time—and if Grimmjow kept using—he'd keep coming well after debts were paid…

"Okay." He shut his eyes, already for sleep, but felt the bed dip beside him once more and his hand was taken. He barely felt the prick of the needle or the lips that touched his own before Nnoitra departed.

He sighed long once he was alone again, and stared at the pin sized red dot between his knuckles until sleep took hold.

* * *

Please leave your thoughts!


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